Page 1 of Sunkissed Colorado
Prologue
Zandra
Sixteen Years Ago
Music blaredin my headphones as I walked down the hall, dodging couples making out against lockers, cheerleaders hanging all over football players, stoners casting paranoid glances.
I hate high school.
Only about eight months left of this. Graduation couldn’t possibly come fast enough.
I steered into the classroom for Ms. Washington’s third period English, taking off my headphones. My grin appeared as I slid into the seat beside my best friend, Jessa Mackenzie.
Jessa leaned in. “So. I may have secured us an invite to the bonfire tonight.”
I sighed. There went my smile. “Jessa…”
“Please.” She clasped her hands under her chin. “You have to go with me. I need you.”
“Are you finally going to share the identity of this guy you’re into? Who is supposedly on the football team andnota douche?”
“He’s not?—”
“Not like Callum and the rest of them,” I finished, because she’d said it so many times. “I find that hard to believe.”
Right on cue, my least favorite person strutted into the classroom. Mr. Football Captain and Homecoming King. Ruler of Silver Ridge High, or so the conformist sheep in our class would have us believe.
Callum O’Neal.
It was Friday, so he wore his jersey. He’d paired his red and black school colors with ripped jeans and a backward ball cap, though both were expressly forbidden by the dress code. If someone called him on it, he’d probably flash an innocent expression.Who, me?
Look, I thought the dress code was stupid too. I doubted short-shorts on girls were going to cause a riot. So sexist.
What irked me was the way Callum could simply get away with it. He was the type of golden boy who got away witheverything.
Even worse, he sat down at my and Jessa’s table beside his friend, fellow footballer Tommy Pickering. Ms. Washington had assigned us all to the same table group.
“Bro!” The two boys slapped palms and did a stupid dancing shimmy like they were going clubbing, instead of settling in for a boring lecture on unreliable narrators.
Callum winked as a cheerleader sauntered by. She trailed her red nails over his shoulder, biting her lip. Not his girlfriend, because Callum O’Neal never had girlfriends. But they were still lining up in the hopes of being the first to tie him down.
“Vomit,” I muttered.
His gaze shot to me. “Hey, Z.”
“Don’t call me Z. We’ve been over this.”
“Icall you Z,” Jessa whispered.
I flipped my long braid over my shoulder. “Because you’re my friend. He’s not.”
Callum stuck his lower lip out. “Z, you wound me. Why are you so mean?”
“Because you and Tommy slack off and make Jessa and me do all the work.”
“That wasone time.”
“Here’s how much I care.” When I brandished both my middle fingers, making sure our teacher wasn’t looking, Callum laughed. But there was a glint ofsomethingin his eyes.
